yuanfen
by mikazukidreams
Summary: She is afraid. He is lost. The future is uncertain, but it is theirs. [AU]
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** She is afraid. He is lost. The future is uncertain, but it is theirs. AU.

 _ **Standard disclaimer applies here**_

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 **Yuanfen**

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(n.) _A relationship by fate or destiny; the binding force between two people_

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She is wary.

The buzzing and pounding of music blaring from excessive speakers makes her feel lightheaded, and she struggles to catch her breath. It's only a few days into the new school year but the students are Konoha University are more hyped up than ever— while the prestigious university is known worldwide for its academic excellence, the parties that its students host are rumoured and proven to be notoriously rowdy. The amount of keg event invites on her social media timeline is astonishing, even to her; a strong indication of the local 'study hard, party harder' motto uttered in the halls of the university.

She'd made a promise to herself the past summer that she would never attend one of these wild events again; her previous breakdowns the year before have shown her she cannot waste time on such things. She is not much of a drinker, anyhow— raised under the iron fist of two demanding parents have not allowed her to explore the freedoms of teenage rebellion. However, she'd found herself with little to no protests when Ino burst into her room hours ago, with Karin and Hinata and Tenten in tow, dressed in yet another skimpy, glittery dress and demanding _just what the hell are you doing, still looking like_ that?

After much nagging on Ino's part (and Karin and Tenten, but mostly Ino because _best friends don't go to parties without best friends_ , the loud blonde had claimed), she'd reluctantly changed out of her comfy boy shorts and baggy KU t-shirt into a striped crop top and high waist shorts, tying her long pink hair into a bun atop her head and applying makeup— just a little— for a night out. It took a lot less convincing on her friends' part than she'd assumed it would; but then again, she had her reasons.

Anything is better than being left alone with her thoughts on a Friday night, she'd decided. Because if everyone is out then the house they are renting will be dark and she will be all alone if she does not go.

Yes. Having company to distract her will be good, she'd convinced herself. She needs something to keep her mind afloat— something to prevent her mind from plunging into the dark disaster zone that threatens to crumble her very being.

So she'd forced a smile she hopes looks and eventually will feel genuine onto her porcelain face, linking arms with her excited friends that had promised her that she would be in for a wild night full of fun and music and _distractions_.

None of her friends know of just how dark her demons are, lurking inside her, aching and clawing and ready to rip out of her carefully constructed self— and she wants to keep it that way.

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That had been two hours ago. Now, she stands alone in a crowded kitchen that smells too much like booze and lust, a red Solo cup (filled with alcohol she has barely touched) clenched in her hand and a steadily growing headache. Her friends have scattered all over the party house— Ino is latched onto some random upperclassman who she recognizes is enrolled in software engineering; Karin is giggling with a humanities student from their year, Suigetsu; Hinata is displaying a rare moment of bravery (definitely courtesy of the liquid courage she'd chugged), talking with a popular linebacker from their year, Naruto; and Tenten stands amongst a circle of too-drunk boys, challenging each of them to a hand wrestling match in a voice that is much too loud.

The overwhelming smell of spilt vodka and cheap beer evades her senses and the body heat of the students, all flushed together in the barely spacious kitchen, feels suffocating. There are boys looking at her, their eyes hazy from smoking too much and drinking too much, and she feels her skin crawl. She did not come for this.

She flinches outwardly when Zaku, a boy she knows was in her physics class last year, breaks out of the group and reaches for her. His whole body reeks of beer and marijuana and the look he is giving her makes her take a step back.

"Hey, pretty lady," he slurs, trying to grab her. "Come here and let's dance."

She can barely hide her revulsion as she slaps his hand away in irritation, suddenly angry and exhausted at ever having to come. This is not the distraction she needs; this is not going to make things better. She has her limits, and she has reached it. Slamming down her filled cup onto a random table and ignoring the dirty look a nearby couple playing tongue twister shoots at her, she pushes her way through the overbearing swarm of university students and storms up to the roof of the party house.

Fresh air. That's what she needs right now.

To her relief, the roof is empty and quieter, the blaring of music fainter. She takes a deep breath to calm herself down, rubbing her hands over her face. Her anger slowly dissipates with every breath she takes until there is none left; nothing but her and the night sky and the regrets she adds to her collection of bottled up emotions.

She finds the pitch-black sky soothing; the splash of a million dazzling stars over the wide expansion almost makes her feel invincible, infinite. Perching herself up against the edge of the roof, she takes in the beautiful view of Konoha and all its sparkling lights. It's a city that never sleeps, a city she yearns to explore. Unlike Suna, there are cars still running and shops still open at this late hour. She wonders why she is in a place like this when she could be anywhere else. She could be free, wind in her hair and stars in her eyes. She could do anything.

But like so many of the thoughts she's had, these spiral and twist and turn into something malicious, and she remembers, a jolt rushing through her body and startling her to reality. Her peaceful smile is frozen and she feels the blood drain from her face. _Wake up,_ it demands. _You foolish girl, wasting time dwelling on useless fantasies. Useless, just like you._

 _Stop,_ she mutters to herself, telling herself to stop before it's too late. _Stop it. Stop._ The ground feels as if it's moving, shifting under her feet, and she clutches her head and shut her eyes _because it is not true._ Her breaths are coming out in shallow pants, a flash of purple appearing in her mind. _Stop._

 _Stop stop stop stop sto—_

Her train of thought is interrupted when she hears the door of the roof opening, a tall, shadowy figure appearing, muttering incoherent words under their breath. Under the starry sky, she faintly recognizes this figure; this _boy,_ specifically. She opens her mouth to say something, but her mind is still whirling and she cannot speak. She pushes herself to get it under control; after all, she's had so much practice.

He must've felt her eyes on him, because the next minute he glances up, noticing her for the first time, and for a minute she catches his eyes— dark, dark like the midnight sky, a pool of obsidian that pierces right through her. Suddenly, her mind halts, and a sense of calm floods her body. She is baffled by her body's reaction. She feels almost drugged, sluggish, despite not having anything to drink.

"Sorry," the boy finally mutters, voice low. He's holding a cup in his hand, his body stiff _—_ almost guarded _—_ and he turns to leave the roof when she feels her mouth move, formulating words before she can stop them.

"It's alright," she says, in a voice that is all too cheery, giving away nothing of the episode she'd just had. Her façade goes up and she's surprised at how easily she can lie. "There's lots of room up here." Giving a small shrug she adds, "Trying to escape the madness down there?" She gestures towards the door leading down, and as if on command she hears the crowd chanting, 'Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!'

"Hn," the boy replies, glaring at the door in annoyance and walking over to where she is standing. Coming closer, recognition hits her like a ton of bricks; it is _him._ The same boy that Ino and Karin and even Tenten had fretted on about all of their freshman year last year, the handsome boy with alabaster skin and beautiful dark eyes and jet black hair; the _perfect_ boy.

Sasuke Uchiha.

He is standing before her, the scent of soap and something _clean_ igniting her senses and she wonders how he'd managed to smell so _decent_ after being caught in the crowd downstairs. He looks as graceful and poised as ever; however, in the place of his normally stoic expression is an annoyed scowl.

They'd lived in the same dorm building last year, just across the hall from one another. They'd never talked, though, but she knows enough about him from her friends to determine that he is one of the popular, untouchable ones. She tries to wrap her mind around this, at _what are the chances_ and _wait til Ino hears about this_ and before she can say anything he asks, in a deep baritone voice,

"Were you in Provenance Hall last year?" She is surprised that he is the one breaking the silence because she'd hardly ever heard him speak before; she vaguely remembers how loud Sasuke's roommate had been, but never him. Her mind feels blank in his presence and she can't seem to find any words, her brain scrambling to decipher this very moment, to secure it in her memory. She doesn't want to seem rude so she merely nods in response. He continues with, "Sakura, right?"

She's shocked that he remembers her face and even more shocked that he knows her name.

"Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you," she says, sticking out her hand and cursing herself for her awkward stupidity when Sasuke look at it pointedly. She cringes and goes to retract it when he reaches forward and grasps her hand in a firm shake.

"Sasuke Uchiha," he says.

There is something nagging her brain, as if reminding her of how in this very moment her life has been forever changed, but she casually brushes it off as embarrassment for finally meeting possibly the most popular boy on campus (and her ex-neighbour) in such a random way.

"Hi, Sasuke." The smile she gives him is the most genuine one she's given all night.

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 **note:**...guilty for starting a new story, I know. But this has been on my chest for a while, and it's kinda personal and so relevant to what has happened to me the past year so I thought it'd be cathartic to get it all down on paper (or in this case, a doc.x). hope you like it! this chapter's kinda fast (I apologize) bc I wanted to post it today. i'm going to be switching POVs so it's both Sasuke and Sakura, so stay tuned. :)

xoxo

-A


	2. Chapter 2

He is irritated.

It is not normally in his nature to attend these unruly social events, but somehow he finds himself stuck in a horde of drunken university students on a Friday night—their voices all too loud and filled with fleeting excitement. There's a half-drunk bottle of Smirnoff in his hand and not _nearly_ enough vodka in his system to calm his growing annoyance.

He hears his name being cooed in high voices that are superficially sweet; he feels hands grabbing at him, reaching for him, all pretty coloured nails and fluttering eyes, paired with the overwhelming scent of perfume. He doesn't care for the pouts that emerge from the girls' faces when he shrugs them off carelessly. After all, he's not _that_ drunk. Pushing through the large crowd, he scans the packed party house for his dipshit friends—the same idiots that dragged him out of the house to 'have a good time' are nowhere to be found. He'd left the group to get some air, only to be trapped by an unrelenting crowd with high buzzing hormones, and when he'd returned his asshole friends had all disappeared.

Of course, it's his fault too—he should've known better than to listen to what his loudmouthed idiot of a best friend says. He'd been harassed for hours on end to attend _at least_ one _party,_ because this is _Naruto's third and Kiba's fourth_ and _"even Shikamaru and Neji are going"._ He's always had little patience with nagging best friends and grudgingly agreed, with the condition that they would _shut the fuck up_ and _leave him alone_ afterwards.

Now, with a throbbing headache and very, very little patience for humankind left, he looks back and regrets ever having made friends with such rambunctious people. How he'd even become best friends with someone the complete and utter opposite of him is still surprising to him—he and Naruto couldn't have been more different than night and day. Naruto is loud, _too_ loud, opinionated and tanned and always optimistic. He, on the other hand, is quiet, pale (but _all_ Uchiha's are, in his defense), and realistic. He is absolutely nothing like his best friend. Naruto is an idiot, he likes to say, a complete slob. Naruto eats unhealthy and is messy and drools in his sleep. Naruto is exactly what he does _not_ want to be—

—But he can't help but envy the passion that lights Naruto's cerulean eyes when the blonde is out on the football field or when the idiot talks about his overly ambitious dream to become president. Maybe it's that passion that drives him to be friends with someone like Naruto.

Like him, Naruto has a plan. Unlike him, Naruto sees the clear path towards his goal, and has passion to fuel it. Unlike him, Naruto has a supportive father and no elite family name to honour.

He knows, deep down, that his family is doing what they believe is best for him, and if he were in his father's position, he would probably definitely do the same. But he can't help but to feel a sense of bitterness to the expectations his father assumes he will fulfill. As a child he'd been thrilled—even thrived to become like father, like Itachi, like every other Uchiha. Now, he's not so sure what he wants anymore, and his family is not one to take uncertainty lightly—Uchiha's are supposed to know their goals and chase them to the ends of the Earth. Bearing his family name means bearing the responsibility of expectations and honour; it means obeying tradition.

Running an agitated hand through his black hair, he tips the bottle to his lips and takes a generous drink. His father would not be pleased with his behaviour right now, he knows, but for once he wants to be free of the heavy thoughts of his future dragging him down. Coming to a party was probably _not_ the best decision he's ever made, but there is a brief feeling of relief—however buried deeply—in his chest. He almost feels _grateful_ to his friends for taking his mind off of things, even for a little while.

He reaches for another drink, this time a cheap beer, and his momentary feelings of relief and gratitude are quickly dissipated when two girls take a brazen opportunity and hook themselves up to either side of him, all smiles and arrogance, leaning in close to his ear, whispering and murmuring words that disgust him. He fights to urge to throw them off— his mother taught him better manners than that—choosing instead to nudge both of his arms to note his displeasure. He's always been fond of his own personal space, and no one other than his older brother and his mother and Naruto (who is inevitable due to his lack of understanding the words 'personal space') are allowed to be so close to him.

"Sasuke-kun," they sing, tracing their fingers up his arm. "Why don't you come with us?" They giggle and bat their eyes and he thinks _is this how easy you think it is?_ They don't notice his discomfort; if they do, they show no signs of acknowledging it. Liquid courage does wonders for the repressed desires in people, he's noted, because under normal circumstances they would've never been so bold in approaching him.

"No," he says, almost harshly, jerking away. He is a second year student and he has responsibilities he can't possibly escape from and he shouldn't be here, stuck in a cramped room with sweaty university students who don't have the capacity to understand him. He should be in his room right now, reading that expensive criminology text his father had ordered for him because he needs to be ahead of everyone else or at the gym, training for basketball season because he's on the varsity team and he's making his way up to captain. His mind is a _mess_ standing here, because he doesn't belong with these people, because he would much rather be in his room, studying or listening to music or doing _something_ other than this. He leaves the whining girls behind with no remorse on the desperate looks they give him.

Part of the reason his friends drag him out to parties is because they're assholes and enjoys taking comfort in his displeasure. One of the main reasons, however, is because they believe he should take pride in his status at Konoha University, because being popular is important and being liked by girls is important. He can't even pinpoint exactly _why_ girls find him so appealing—they are better off liking Naruto or Kiba or even Shikamaru, who are more open and bright and charismatic.

Naruto tells him it's because he's an asshole, and girls like guys who scowl instead of smile. Kiba thinks it's because he's on the varsity team for both basketball and soccer, and girls love athletic guys. Shikamaru tells him it's because he's the archetype for _tall, dark,_ and _handsome,_ with his rich family background and high level of intelligence and his lean physique that make girls fawn over him—and the fact that he pays them no attention only makes them want him _more._

He thinks those girls just shallow. He's never really paid much attention to girls because he's so used to receiving unwanted attention and he doesn't have time to dawdle on unnecessary matters, like _love_.

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His head throbs and annoyance is simmering under his pale skin like a scorching fire and he vows to _hurt_ Naruto tomorrow for forcing him along—right now, he spots the blonde talking to some pearly-eyed female who has clearly had enough to drink in the far corner of the room. His face twists in thinly concealed disgust as he spots Kiba standing a few feet away, tongue down some _very_ enthusiastic girl's throat. He decides it is time for fresh air because he can't be in a room with these idiots and these staggering, too drunk students any longer or he'll snap.

There's a swarm of students littering both the front and the back yards, much to his peaking annoyance, so he settles for the roof of the party house. The throng of people make his path more difficult and he wants to punch all of them, to yell at them to get out of the way, but he doesn't.

He arrives at the peeling yellow door with a nasty scowl on his face and a red Solo cup in his hands and prays that the roof will be free of adult stupidity. To his relief, the roof is empty—save for a couple of cups and napkins scattered on the ground. The nighttime breeze soothes his anger and exhaustion, but the stiff tension doesn't leave his shoulders. He takes a deep breath and collects himself.

It's only then when he realizes the roof isn't quite empty; there is a girl standing near the edge, staring at him. Under the moonlight, he freezes as his eyes clash with startling green ones—an unfamiliar feeling rises in his chest at her gaze, which seems piercing but blank all at once.

After what seems like eternity, he realizes that the girl is holding her head in her hands and that she may be nauseous, possibly drunk, and that his presence is not wanted nor expected.

He mutters a quick "Sorry" and turns to leave when the girl replies in a voice that his keen ears recognize: it is soft yet strong, naturally smooth and bright—qualities that match the person it belongs to. Her speech is clear, unslurred, indicating that she's not intoxicated in the slightest.

"It's alright, there's lots of room up here." She sounds sympathetic when she adds, "Trying to escape the madness down there?" He hears the loud chanting of the partygoers below him, just beyond that yellow door, and he goes to move away from it. It feels like two different worlds, with the door as the barrier, and he would much rather be on _this_ side with this girl and the quiet and the night sky than the loud, rowdy life he'd just emerged from.

He walks closer to her, and standing closer confirms his assumptions—it is _her,_ the pretty pink-haired girl that'd lived across from him last year, whom he'd only talked to once in the presence of Naruto; and even then they'd only exchanged names and faculties. She's one of the only girls on campus he's encountered that doesn't flit and flirt around him; that's one reason he remembers her so well. He doubts _she_ remembers anything as insignificant as that—she'd always had friends over, three girls he doesn't really know and one shy girl he suddenly recalls seeing with his best friend earlier. She's easily the popular type, her life eventful.

She looks at him with slight confusion in her emerald orbs and he feels himself asking, even though it's not typical of him to do so, "Were you in Provenance Hall last year?" The girl looks surprised at the fact that he is breaking the silence but he feels more surprised because he doesn't know _why._ Maybe because the barely concealed emptiness in her eyes sparks a tad bit of interest in him, but his tongue feels loose around this girl he just officially met. Her name rolls off his tongue easily, as if he's said it a thousand times. "Sakura, right?"

He sees shock overcome her pretty features and she stumbles to properly introduce herself. She sticks out her hand, embarrassed, and he finds himself reaching forward and grasping it. He introduces himself with ease.

The feelings of relief and gratitude resurface with the smile she gives him in response.

Maybe he won't hurt his stupid friends for dragging him along tomorrow after all.

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 **note:** it's 1:44am and i just finished this. hopefully it's not too rushed again. please review? :) x

-A


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